The Cycle
by ZombieBryce
Summary: An epilogue of sorts. Lots of people have speculated how the series will end, I don't see it being a complete downer or fairy tale ending either. So I tried to find something in the middle. No beta, so its all my fault.


A/N- I know at the end of story, I jump from third to first person a couple of times. This was intentional as this was someone remembering a first hand account he had memorized. Please leave a review even if you think I suck.

It was no surprise that he found his youngest son in the library his nose buried in ancient books and scrolls. Samwell's love of books was well known to everyone in Horn Hill, his mother Allie read to him every night as a child and even after her death from the pox his love of books never waned. In fact he had taken over reading those same stories to his younger sisters. Every night he thanked the gods that all his children had taken after their mother and not him. She was a Hightower by birth and the best woman he had ever known. Not that he showed her that respect while she graced the halls of the castle, he had done the opposite he had been a letcher in his youth. Fucking any pretty young thing that caught his eye, serving girls, maiden daughters of his bannerman, he had even taken the mother of his good sister who was twice his age at their wedding. But those days were long past and he tried to make up for his sins, his bastards were well taken care of and he swore off drink and women. Garlan Tarly had brought shame to his house but his children would be different. It was then he saw his son looking at him.

"Ser Garth has been looking for you"

Garth Oldflowers was their master at arms, an old grizzled man who had taught him to fight in his youth. He had trained all Garlan's sons and nephews too. The Tarly men were known as soldiers but as scholars too. It was something his father had told him years ago but never listened. A man skilled with a sword is deadly, a man with knowledge is wise but a man armed with both can change the world.

"Was he angry I missed our lesson? He always angry" his son looked up at him from the dusty books.

It was true, the man seemed angry but that anger had been born on the battlefield. It was one Westeros's many wars of electing a king to rule them. It was called the Imp's Law and while noble in thought it had been a disaster in practice. Ser Garth had seen his sons cut down in front of him and my nuncle too. It had left him broken but he knew his hard training was so he didn't see another young man he cared killed.

"He only wants the best for you my son, he knows how good you are with a sword. And he tells me you could be great if you practiced more"

His son looked at him with the wide eye of youth.

"Is that why you named me Samwell, to be a warrior like Savage Sam Tarly? If so father I will be a disappointment, if I never kill a man I would be happy" "I would rather be Samwell the wise"

"And why can't you be both? You know are words, First in Battle but you know that's not all we are. We are soldier but also guardians of the truth"

He remembered when his father had said the same to him so many years and showed him one of House Tarly's most treasured possessions, alongside Heartsbane. It was ancient book written by Samwell Tarly during years leading up to and during the Second Long Night. A Song of Ice and Fire.

Maesters while learned in many things were not wise, they had long questioned whether it had ever happened. Legends and tales to scare children or for lords to claim descent from some ancient hero they claimed. The Maid of Tarth a woman who was so beautiful she took up arms to keep her suitors at bay only to find love in arms of the Soiled Knight, who was cursed by the gods with a golden hand for his sins. Only to find redemption in her love. Or the Young Wolf, a Stark who rode a Direwolf into battle or in some of the darker tales turned into one and feasted on his enemies.

How could a woman give birth to Dragons? For a man to be a Stark, Dragon Prince, Lord Commander of the Nights Watch and even in the songs of the freefolk one of their own. No they had said, she was the last of the fabled Targaryens who took a bastard of the North as a lover and consort. All of these stories had sprung up in a time of Dynastic struggle when the last Baratheon King had died and all Westeros had tried to claim the throne.

Some of what the maesters said was true, the exploits of these people had been lost to time and turned into legend. But they had been real all of them. The last Targaryen was named Daenerys and she was called the mother of dragons, the first to ride them in hundreds of years. The bastard was her nephew named Jon Snow but in reality he was Aegon Targaryen hidden away by his uncle and a friend of Sam Tarly. They had fallen in love and married during the great war but legends say they had died sacrificing themselves to bring the dawn. Another lie. He could recite the entry by heart.

I will never forget what I saw that day. Jon and Daenerys on their dragons fighting the Night King on his. The roars and flames as they danced in the air. The warriors of so many different houses fighting together against the army of the dead. Dothraki charging on horseback with no fear, the unsullied in a perfect square dragonglass spears shining. Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth fighting side by side, Valyrian Steel cutting through White Walkers. Or the noble Jorah Mormont using Heartsbane to kill a dozen Walkers until he was felled. The young Arya Stark dancing through the chaos in a fury of death, countless wounds marked her young body.

But the roar of Jon's dragon Rhaegal dying breath is what the sent the battlefield silent. And seeing his friend give his lover one last look before leaping off to strike at the NK, his sword looked ablaze against the rising sun. He saw the sword plunge into the NK chest as they both fell towards the Trident. The fury and fear in Daenerys screams as the Winged Shadow Drogon burned his undead brother as she flew him after Jon. There were no cheers when the army of the dead stopped because we had all saw what happened. The two people who had saved the realm were dead, Jon doing what he always believed was his fate and Daenerys chasing him into the afterlife in dragonfire.

It didn't end there, he could hear the sobs of Sansa Stark, tears for Jon and her sister Arya who she craddled in her arms. The one they called the Hound Sandor Clegane giving her comfort. Podrick Payne and Jaime Lannister in shared grief over the fallen Brienne of Tarth. The leader of the Unsullied called Grey Worm and the Queen closet friend Missandei sharing a prayer for their fallen friend and Queen. Lady Lyanna Mormont giving orders that her cousin be buried with respect fitting a Queensguard. He saw Tyrion Lannister and Davos Seaworth, walking the battlefield pale as ghosts. The words we will build the world they wanted spoken as an oath between them.

But I didn't believe or want to believe they were gone. Jon always comes back is something I always told myself whenever he did something brave or stupid. I walked to where they had fallen, if they were truly gone I would have to see with my own eyes. As I walked the first thing I encountered was the charred remains of the dragon Viserion who the NK had resurrected as one of his. Jon's dragon Rhaegal was nearby his green tinged scales covered in his own blood, lifeless eyes staring at me. It was at that moment I hoped if he was truly dead I didn't find him like that. The thought that my last memory of my friend would be his lifeless corpse looking at me was something I didn't want. But as I continued walking I saw her first. Her once flowing silver hair had burned away. She was resting against an ancient Weirwood, the face carved into its trunk had become a twisted smile. She was holding Jon in her lap. I thought the worst as I saw the tears streaming down her face but I could see his shallow breaths. It felt like intruding when I approached them as her purple eyes met mine.

The conversation we had after I checked them both for injuries is something I will not write down for many reasons. I am not one to judge the actions of two people who had suffered so much or let others do the same. What I will write is that she asked me to let the others still think them dead. That Jon had never wanted a throne and only claimed his Targaryen heritage for her. And that she realized after all this she didn't want it either, perhaps a house with a red door she told me. But more than anything she didn't want the burden for their children. I will admit I pleaded with her for them to stay but she would have none of it. Let them use our memories to overthrow Cersei Lannister, let them create a new world with the same ones. Have we not given enough is what she asked me? It was then that I saw her dragon and she smiled at me. I helped her get Jon secured on Drogon's back and she bid me farewell. The last image of them is her flying East towards a new life. As years passed I searched for them for selfish reasons I hoped and prayed they found happiness. There were rumors over the years, slaver ships from Isles of Axes burned by dragons. The Jade Emperor hosting a silver haired queen, her husband and children. No one believed them of course but I knew.

As I write this final entry I fear my days are growing short, I have lived a long life one to see my children grow, have children of their own and now they have children themselves. My beloved Gilly passed away last year and I yearn to be reunited with her but I knew I could not until I finished this task. This tale isn't just about honoring my friends but as a warning, we forgot once before of what lies behind the dawn, the magic that graces our world and the terrors that lurk in the shadows. So to whoever is reading this, train well and learn. And when Winter comes once again for us all you must find the dragons.

The signs were all around if you looked and listened. Ravens from the wall, tales of dead men in the woods. Red Priests dire warnings of the Great Other. The Starks and Lannisters were marching against the Tullys and Arryns. War was coming and winter with it. Those last words always haunted Garlan even in his youth, it was a burden he dreaded, a fools quest. Now he wished it had been his for now it will fall on his sons instead.


End file.
